Shalily One-shots
by MakeItHale
Summary: A collection of humanAU Shagotte x Pantherlily one-shots with a little Gajevy throughout because I can't resist my OTP especially when I'm writing for his right-hand man/cat. Not all of the stories are in the same universe, but nothing is too drastically different. I hope you enjoy this adorable couple and I also hope that you review. :)
1. Hot Jogger

It's 5:29 and Lily began the countdown for his alarm about an hour ago. The mindless counting had worked wonders for his nerves, but the approaching end is causing them to return. Usually, he's a morning person. Usually, he is eager to start the day and conquer whatever new challenges it has in store. Usually, he jumps out of bed at his alarm and begins his daily routine. Usually, he goes through his daily morning workout routine, takes a quick shower, then heads onto the back porch to read the newspaper and drink his tea around 6:30.

If you haven't guessed already, this morning is not usual.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP…*

He allows it to ring far longer than usual, opting to stare at the ceiling fan for a few more seconds instead. Accompanied by reluctant sigh his right arm slowly lifts off of the sheets and lands on top of the alarm clock beside him. After a few unsuccessful, limp pats, he finally succeeds in turning it off.

He lazily swings his dark, muscular legs out from under the thick comforter and completely bypasses his slippers in favor of the cold, hardwood floor. Still silent, he trudges through the open door of the bathroom and comes to stand in front of the sink, staring himself down in the mirror. Contrary to the rest of his body language, his face is wound tight due to a combination of exhaustion and extreme stress. If this were a movie he'd be having a discussion with his mirror image:

"Why the frown?"

"Hi me...I didn't sleep too well last night."

"Come on, you can't lie to me. I am you after all."

"I know, I know. I'm just so nervous! I've fought overseas for crying out loud and it wasn't this bad!"

"Lily, you're being melodramatic. Just take a long shower, put on some cologne, and realize you're amazing."

"Yeah! Thanks self!"

Then he leaves refreshed and ready to take on the day ahead... but this isn't and movie and Lily is far too rational for a mirror pep talk. Instead, Lily sees a slightly graying beard, dark circles, and bloodshot eyes. Another characteristic of Lily is that he is a man of his word so, despite the fact that his appearance makes him feel even worse about today, he will go through with his plan. It's either carry it out or risk dying of shame. His best friend, Gajeel, would never let him hear the end of it. Who would've ever thought a decorated war veteran would get taken down by a girl.

His staredown continues as he brushes his teeth. A flurry of thoughts and emotions whiz behind his dark eyes: anxiety, curiosity, dread, panic, and a pinch of excitement. Some good may come from this. He certainly puts an emphasis on the may. Before he can descend into further self-doubt he spits out the minty foam, turns on the radio, cranks the classical music all the way before, and heads into the shower.

When he finally steps out of the steam filled room and into his favorite pair of jeans and a plaid button up, his mood hasn't improved much but it's better than nothing. Hopefully the comfy jeans- that he's been told make his butt look great- will chase the rest away with time. There's nothing like a great pair of pants to make you feel… well, great!

He's humming Brahm's "Hungarian Dance No. 5" and scanning the newspaper as he pours his first cup of Earl Grey tea. An adorable bear container waits on the overhead cupboard patiently waits for his will to break. He always adds a dollop of honey- or two- no matter how much he attempts to convince himself that he doesn't need it. He's a sucker for sweet things. Looking at him you wouldn't think so, you wouldn't think most of this. He's a buff, tall, black, man with a large scar decorating his left eye. Yet he keeps his late grandparents garden in pristine condition, drinks tea in the morning, has a major sweet tooth, obsesses over classical music, and, most recently, is terrified of talking to a certain platinum blonde jogger.

The back porch swing creaks as he eases onto it; the old wicker had seen better days yet he doesn't have the heart to get rid of it. Too many memories of sweet tea with Granny on hot summer days and hot chocolate after the leaves had fallen. The entire backyard is like a time capsule, from the bright yellow daisies along the white fence to the pastel pink bird bath that he and his grandfather painted rather poorly. He sighs into his cup of tea, partly due the pleasant aroma but mostly from nostalgia. It's been about six years since they're passing and missing them can definitely be added to his daily morning routine.

"Good morning, Lily!"

Maria Jackson, the latina mom from down the street, almost always stops to chat with Lily during her morning walk. He inwardly cringes as she leans against the flimsy, white fence. One of these days she's going to break the decorative little thing. He quickly sets his face with a smile that isn't completely forced. He's always happy to see a neighbor's smiling face.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jackson! A lovely day for a walk. How are the kids?"

"It's Maria, hun. Kimberly is going to graduate from university soon and the twins are constantly on those darn smart phones. I guess there are worse things they could be into but it still pisses me off when we're at the dinner table.

"That's very true, but there are also better things. Feel free to send them over for a day in the garden whenever you'd like."

"You're too kind, Lily. I'll be sure to run a day past you soon." She pauses to noticeably lean further forward over the fence, "You know, if I was a younger woman…"

"I'm sure you would. Always a pleasure to see you. Have a great morning."

With a disgruntled sigh, the busty middle-aged woman pushes off the fence and begins her exaggerated walk once more, a large sweat stain already forming on the back of her gray t-shirt. She's a nice woman, just a little too flirty whenever her husband is out of town. Of course, that's none of his business. He goes to take another sip of his tea when his grip on the cup suddenly tightens and his eyes shoot wide open. Maria just walked by which means he only has about five minutes to prepare for the blonde jogger. Five minutes! Or less!

He gingerly places the mug on the table next to the swing, takes a deep breath, then dashes back into the house leaving the screen door to slam shut behind him. He's in front of the nearest mirror fussing over his appearance within seconds. Are the dark bags still under his eyes? Does he need to shave really quick? How does this shirt fit? Does it look like he's trying too hard with a collared shirt? Is there anything in his teeth?

Everyday since he first saw her two months ago he has watched her run by his backyard without so much as a greeting. Not today! Today he says "hello" and it needs to be the best darn "hello" of his life. After a few test runs of different tones and volumes he heads back onto the porch with fake confidence. His outside appearance says cool and collected, but his insides are crashing and burning in fits of anxiety. Let the waiting game begin.

Longest. Five. Freaking. Minutes. Of. His. Life.

Finally, he hears the familiar sound of her shoes against the pavement. His hands relax against his thighs as he attempts to assume a relaxed posture. Every light thud increases his urge to run back into the house… not that she'd notice. No! Stay on your ass,soldier! His old drill sergeant barges, uninvited, into his mind and that shrill, demanding voice distracts him long enough for him to be forced into the situation. The lovely platinum blonde braid flutters behind her pale, freckled shoulders. It's a purples tank top today. The pink flowered one is still his favorite… God, he's such a creep.

Now. Just do it. Come on, she'll be gone in a second. Now. Right… Now!

"Ahem! Um, good morning!"

She's still moving forward, not even a glance in his direction. Maybe he wasn't loud enough?

"Good morning! Lovely day for a run, isn't it?" He even tosses in a friendly wave.

Zilch. Well, that's not entirely true. There is a whole lot of disappointment… Wait! What's that on her arm? It's an iPod holder strappy thing! She can't respond to him because she can't hear him! Thank the heavens.

This discovery gives Lily a boost of confidence that puts the lovely idea to run after her into his mind. That "hello" really is now or never apparently. Screw the gate, he leaps over the flowerbed and the fence to jog after the mysterious and beautiful woman. He's just in time to see her turn right rather than left as he would've expected considering that is towards the park and the former is towards downtown. Maybe she lives there?

He turns the corner and spots her on a bench, taking out those darn headphones. It's so perfect! He can ask to sit next to her and they can chat and fall in love and stroll through the farmer's market with their baby daughter every Saturday. His steps are quick and sure as he approaches the bench until she lifts her left leg and she... Woah. She just took her leg off.

It was under her black yoga pants and now it's laying casually on the bench where he's supposed to be. What is he supposed to do now?! This was not a part of the plan! Does he address the leg? Does he act like it's not there? Does he move it to the ground? Ah! Now she's looking his way! What the heck kind of look is that? Pull yourself together, Lily! He exhales deeply as he locks eyes with her. Goodness gracious, she's stunning… His confident stride and charming smile return. Did she just relax? was that a sigh of relief? Is she happy he's still approaching her?

"Hi!" Really?! His voice hasn't cracked since middle school but it decides to do so now? I guess it couldn't be helped. She's even more stunning up close. Her cute button nose is spattered with freckles and a light pink from the physical exertion. Oh, and her eyes. It's like reading a novel at 2am that you keep telling yourself you will only read one more chapter of. He wants to dive into their smooth, silver surface and float around in all the joy and intelligence he sees so clearly in them, "Uh, ahem, hello. My name's Lily. All of my friends call me Pantherlily to make it seem more masculine." Well… that was stupid.

"Well, Lily, do you normally go running in jeans and sandals?"

"You'd be surprised how much support a good pair of sandals has. Nike needs to step up its game."

Her laugh isn't anything like he expected it to be. It's boisterous and hearty and carefree. it's like a long, warm hug that lifts you up and spins you around. She somehow manages to fill the room without there being a room to fill in the first place!

"Maybe I'll try them out sometime." She sticks her small hand out expectantly, "My name is Shagotte and it is a pleasure to finally meet the handsome swing guy."

Words? What are words? He didn't think it was possible for a black man to be as red as he knew himself to be in this moment... Handsome? … Finally?

"You had me worried, Sir. I didn't think you'd pass the leg test, yet here you are… looking like you're about to pass out. Are you feeling alright?"

Don't screw this up, soldier!

"I'm fine. Just a little frazzled I guess."

"That I have a fake leg?"

"Haha! No. I was shocked to hear you say that I'm handsome. Although, I'd be lying if I said the leg didn't throw me off a bit. There were so many crazy scenarios running through my head this morning and this was not one of them. You caught me off guard, Shagotte, but you've got to do better than that to chase me off. I'm a hardened man. I've seen some things you wouldn't believe."

"A hardened man with a pink bird bath?" she smirks up at him as she attaches her prosthetic. Some of her hair came loose from the braid and is falling in front of her gray eyes. It should be illegal to look so lovely while working out.

"Hey! I'll have you know that real men love pink! That's a new thing for the kids these days, right?"

"I wouldn't know, but I'll go with it." She stands up and readjusts her earbuds, "How does this Friday sound?"

"For what?

"A date, silly. Pick me up in front of Exceed Apartments at 8. I've gotta run."

She takes off towards town as he shouts down the street at her retreating form.

"Um, yeah! Friday at 8! Perfect! I'll, um, see you then, Shagotte."

She flashes a stunning smile back at him in response. Boy, does it feel good to be alive! If there ever was an appropriate time to double fist pump the air it's now. A dog walker and some old dude are staring at him but who the heck cares?! Friday cannot come soon enough.


	2. Wedding Troubles

It should only be a few minutes now, he holds his breath. The rich purple silk of the aisle is waiting to be graced by her presence; however, that is not its only purpose. It also serves as border patrol for their separate families. From his spot at the altar, Lily has the perfect view of the drastic difference between her world and his.

He glances at her pristine family. Their tailored suits and shimmering diamonds glimmer against porcelain skin. Delicate blonde or white curls frame each face. Their posture is so perfect that it indeed seems as though a pole has been shoved up their you know whats. Nobody coughs or even seems to blink as they sit there and wait for what can only be perceived as a funeral. He's almost scared to move, to breathe even just in case that will break their trance and they will come after him for taking one of their own.

His eyes shift to view his side of the church. His only real family were his grandparents who had raised him. Unfortunately, they passed away before being able to see their boy find a "sweet young gal". So, he invited the family he had chosen and, in turn, had chosen him. Basically, his "family" is the exact opposite of what he just observed. His army friends are slouched, sprawled, and in every other position except sitting up. All of them but Erza, of course. She's too busy fangirling over the wedding with their lovely ladies to reprimand them for their rude behavior. Even the hair of his family looks unacceptable. Their hair is mostly wild and unkempt in colors that vary about as much as the rainbow; their outfits do as well now that he's taking a good look at them. Lily feigns a cough to hide his chuckle at the attire of his friends. Did they own an iron? Or maybe even a suit jacket? He shouldn't complain too much seeing as Gray is still completely clothed. His best man and only groomsmen, Gajeel, taps his shoulder and silently asks "what's up". Lily doubts that Gajeel has failed to notice the haughty, disapproving glances he's received from the bride's immaculate family. So he should realize how much this feels like a sin. She's so clean and pale and he's so… so…

"Damn. Look, Lil."

She's here. She didn't get cold feet in the limo. She didn't realize what a horrible mistake she's making by settling with him. Air rushes into his lungs and light floods his eyes, blinding him to everything else in the room.

This sensation is not new. Every time he sees her his heart flutters this way and his soul reaches to entangle itself with her ethereal being. However, the soft flow of the tulle skirt as she walks, the way it hugs her slim waist, and the dainty lace sleeves atop her kissable shoulders…this is new. He has never seen her like this before. This isn't another fancy dress, it's her dress for him and only him. Doesn't she know that he'll stain its soft, white fabric? That he doesn't belong by its side? He should be kept as far away from it as possible. His family is resilient, not so breakable and not so clean. That he'll allow himself to have, but not this, not her.

"Hey!"

She halts halfway down the aisle, causing her father to stumble.

"Sorry, Papa. Go sit down, okay?"

Everyone is eyeing Shagotte curiously, including Lily. Her grey eyes truly are the window to the soul because they clearly show her every emotion. Right now she doesn't seem nervous or sad like he hopes and fears, just angry.

"If you're not going to cry then I will turn around and get back in the limo. I did not spend hours getting all dolled up for you to stare at me like a kicked puppy!"

His feet are rushing towards her before his mind tells them to. In one swift motion, his right arm draws her in, his left-hand cradles the back of her neck, and he brings their lips together in a passionate kiss. He tries to express his insecurities, his flaws, how beautiful she looks, and, most of all, how much he loves her. They finally break apart. Half the room is covering their eyes from the impure sight and uttering horrified gasps. The other half is whistling, standing on the pews, and cheering them on.

"There they are. Looks like I'll be a married woman at the end of the day after all."

She slips off her lace gloves to cup his tearstained cheeks, quickly covering her smirk with his lips once more. He's not quite sure how long they spent in that position, but it was long enough to make the priest rather uncomfortable.

"Ahem!" They part with flushed cheeks, "Um, pardon me, but the kiss is usually reserved for afterwards. If you could escort Miss Shagotte to the altar then I will hurry up to that portion of the ceremony."

This comment received roaring applause from one side and haughty eye rolls from the other, Shagotte's vivacious laugh echoing above it all. She rushes ahead, the tell-tale limp to her step that shows her strength, and throws her arms around Gajeel. She thanks him for cleaning up so nicely for their special day. She doesn't care at all for what she should or shouldn't be doing at her own wedding. Looking at her now, he can't help but shake his head. How foolish of him to think so little of his love. Yes, she is graceful and dainty and of course she is beautiful and poised! But, she does not belong on the pew with her family. She is stubborn, creative, sensitive, moody, loud, hilarious, opinionated, competitive, generous, and an absolute dork. She is okay with getting pancake mix in her platinum blonde hair because it gives her an excuse to dump the whole bowl onto him. She's dirt-stained jeans when she helps him plant flowers at his grandparent's graves. She's an amazing back massage that doesn't lead to anything else because she's "a lady". She's someone who loves his fear of thunderstorms, his stubble, and his sense of humor. She's the only girl he'll ever want and, gazing down into her grey eyes at the altar, he knows that she's more than happy with that.


	3. Military

Lightning

Flash!

Thunder

Crash!

Bullets flying!

Everyone's dying!

Something on me,

Set me free!

Panic sets in!

Feel the adrenaline!

Bursts of light, he has to fight!

Death for death, frantic breath

Punches meet air, they're everywhere!

A noise breaches space, spin to see a face

Braces for combat! She calls for him to come back...

A name floats through the air and caresses his senses

Realization releases the tension that wound him so tight

Jungle heat transforms into a tangled, sweaty cotton sheet

Cool and collected, her soft hand reaches cautiously for his cheek

She moves gently and slowly, never fearful despite what she witnessed.

A touch so loving for a man so broken, he leans into its steady pulse of life

Foreheads meet in a touch so sweet that he falls deaf to the storm still raging outside.

"I love you" he suggests and "I love you" she confirms as the thunder roars in defeat


	4. Blueberry Pancakes

Shagotte had been rolling around and sighing loudly for the past twenty minutes to no avail. Lily slept like a log. His strong form was no longer cuddled against her but sprawled over their King size mattress in an uncomfortable looking starfish position. Thank goodness she convinced him not to get the Queen; otherwise, she would get shoved off every night.

He did look rather cute while sleeping; maybe she should just forget about it and go back to sleep. Her stomach growls loudly in protest of this train of thought. She has a lifetime to look at that! Tonight isn't special! She jabs a finger into his side. No reaction. Hmm... Maybe she should coax him awake? She snuggles up next to him and begins stroking his bare, chiseled chest. With the most seductive voice she can muster at 3 in the morning, she purrs into his ear,

"Lily… Lilyyyy… Wake up, love."

Still nothing.

"Lilllll… Your wife _neeeeds you!"_ After another failed attempt her head drops against his shoulder with a groan.

"I am too pregnant for this...LILY!"

"AAH!" Lily launches himself out of bed and trips on the sheets tangled around his legs, face planting into the hardwood floor. As he's scrambling to right himself his mouth is spewing concerns at an ungodly pace, "What's wrong! Who's here!? Did something happen to the baby!? Are you alright?! What time is it?" He pauses once he sees the fed up expression on his wife's face. His mind races to uncover what he could have possibly done wrong while he was sleeping.

"I've been trying to wake you up for almost half an hour! I wanted to be nice about it, but of course that didn't work. You really should be more attentive with all of that military training. What if someone was murdering me?! I could be dead right now!"

"Ha! Not with your set of lungs. I'm pretty sure the whole neighborhood is awake right now." He narrowly dodges his wife's pillow missile.

"Ugh! I hate you!" She grumpily turns away from him, imagining his happy little smile at her awkward wiggle while doing so. Her usual grace was long gone by the second trimester and now, well into the third, she's a clumsy balloon. He tries to hide how he chuckles when she waddles or how he smirks when she can't fit into clothes anymore, but she sees them all. Those secret looks ease her conscious because they prove that he still loves every bit of her despite how ugly and round she thinks she looks.

She feels the bed give under his weight as he slowly crawls across it. His strong arms wrap around her and she relaxes into the warm embrace. His rough cheek nuzzles against her own as a silent apology.

"Humph…. If you get me something to eat then I might not hate you anymore. The baby is hungry…"

"Only if you _come_ with me" He purrs against her neck, eliciting one of those soft gasps that he loves so much.

"No… mmm… No! NO! Bad kitty!" She playfully shoves his head away from her neck. That offer didn't sound so bad, but it'll have to wait until after. Her stomach demands food before any other activities… no matter how tempting.

"I need you to go downstairs and make me something to eat. I would do it, but I can't get my leg on by myself anymore."

"Fine.." His muscular arms detangle themselves from around her chest without a protest or groan, she pouts at the absence of her personal heater. When she doesn't hear the door open, she turns her head to see him stalking across the room to her side of the bed.

"Lily? What are you… Don't you dare!"

"I told you, you have to come with me. Would've preferred the other way; however, I'll settle with seeing your cute ass perched on the counter while I make your favorite blueberry pancakes."

He scoops her up into his arms bridal style and carries her to the kitchen. Her angry slaps and loud protests do little to erase the smirk from his face. It's moments like this when she wonders how she ever got so lucky.


	5. Date Night

"I told you not to wear heels."

Lily exclaimed as his wife kicked her stilettos across the living room. He smirked, yet it didn't reach his eyes. Despite his good mood, he couldn't help but be concerned. She didn't verbally respond to his comment, but her defeated flop onto the sofa spoke volumes. They had just arrived home from an art gallery event that her cousin hosted. His eyes were full and so was his stomach. Gorgeous sculptures AND bacon wrapped scallops? Life could not get much better. Marrying into high society certainly had its perks

"Stay there. I'll go check on Levy and the kids then I'll be right back."

Lily waited for her muffled exclamation, he couldn't tell what she actually said with her face shoved into the couch cushion so the response was more to confirm she heard, before proceeding. He enjoyed these events a lot more than she did. In her defense, they aren't the easiest people to get along with. Her family still shuns him despite the fact that he has been married to their daughter for almost eight years but he doesn't mind. He's used to that kind of treatment. She is not. Walking around in her seven inch heels was difficult, but keeping her mouth shut through all the racial slurs and underhanded comments was what truly did her in.

When Lily pushed open the purple painted door to his daughter's room he was met with three sleeping figures on her bed instead of the one he was expecting. Levy's petite form is slumped against the wall, soft snores and a little drool escaping her opened mouth. Sari and little Isaiah are peacefully curled into her sides, the books they had coerced her into reading are strewn out around them with one rather large novel sitting on her lap, still open. The soft light from the bedside lamp bathes the trio in golden shadows as if they never left the magical land Levy had undoubtedly been painting in their imaginations. Lily carefully walks up to the side of the bed and reaches down to run his hands through his son's wild curls. The three year old is drowning in stained cotton or, more specifically, one of Lily's ripped up work shirts. A smile warms his features and fits perfectly into his defined laugh lines. He picks up the small boy and takes him to his own bed before heading back to tuck both Levy and Sari into the six year old's bed. He sends a quick text to Gajeel explaining that Levy won't be home tonight and not to worry before turning off the light.

He makes his way back down the hall, pausing to admire a photo of his wife and kids that was taken over the summer. Isaiah and Sarai are nicely tanned, but Shagotte's fair skin is a deep red. She had a bottle of aloe constantly by her side for weeks after that trip to the beach. It's crazy to think that he's raising a family in the same house where his grandparents raised him. The ominous grandfather clock he used to fear when the sun went down is now a soothing tick tock. A constant reminder of his happy childhood. When he finally returns to the living room his smile fades. His wife is in the same position except that her neat bun has been released and her long, platinum blonde hair is now splayed across her back.

"Hey, darling. Are you sure you're not sick?"

Again, her response is muffled by the pillow.

"Could you repeat that, love?"

Her neck lifts just enough so that she can turn her head to the side and flop back down. The mascara and eyeliner she spent so much time on is now smeared underneath her eyes. She looks kind of like a raccoon... the loveliest raccoon he's ever seen.

"I'm sick of certain things if that's what you mean."

"It's not. Want me rub your feet?"

"...Pretty please."

"I'm sorry if they stink." She mumbles.

"We have two kids together. I don't think you need to warn me about anything stink related anymore…" He gently lifts her legs to make room for his own large form on the couch. Once situated, he lays them across his lap. As his dark hands around her swollen feet a contented hum rumbles from her throat down to her toes, encouraging him to continue, "as long as it's not a diaper."

His teasing pays off when she finally glances back at him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"No promises. My dream has always been to have a smoking hot husband, a cute garden, and three little ones."

"Three?" His thumb traces the arch of her foot admiringly, imagining the prospect.

"At least."

"Well then, I guess we better get working on that. I want to be a supportive, smoking hot husband after all." His hands move to massage her calves, but her feet push into his abdomen, demanding his attention return to them. His pout is answered by a smirk which still gives him heart palpitations.

"Uh-uh. Paws off the merchandise and get back to work. You have to earn it."

"Alright, Your Highness." He replies with a smirk of his own before doing her bidding. The grandfather clock's ticking and the AC's hum command the atmosphere for some time. He enjoys the sounds nighttime sounds of the house for some time before he begins to question Shagotte and he have shared many comfortable silences together, but they don't often last this long- especially at night. Her favorite time to talk is at night because she thinks it makes people more honest. She's either asleep or upset. Judging by her stiff upper body he's going to guess the latter.

"What is it?"

His question hovers above her, bouncing with every tick of the clock, waiting for her to breathe it in.

She inhales deeply.

"Well, I was just thinking…" She fills the silent, dark room with her exhale. Anxious thoughts that have been kept pent up all night swirling around with it, "Do you mind? Does it get to you when they, you know..."

He pauses to think yet his thumbs continue to rub gentles circle into the pads of her feet.

"Yes and no. I don't want to say that I'm used to it because that's not true. I don't think it's something I will ever truly be okay with; however, I've come to terms with it because I get to come home, kiss our children goodnight, rub your feet, and cuddle all those nasty comments away."

"We've been married for years yet I'm still surprised by how mushy you can be."

"Does that mean I've earned it?" No smirk or mischievous glint this time. His hopeful smile is met by an unimpressed eyebrow raise, "Okay, okay. More foot rubbing and less talking."

"Mmm... I love you."

"I love you too."


End file.
